


Alternatives

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tells her because he wants her to have a choice. Reunion!fic. AU Post-Forest of the Dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternatives

He couldn’t meet her gaze. Rose had gone quiet, and he stayed sitting, eyes trained on her abandoned gun sitting in the corner. He’d had to tell her. Had to. She had a right to know before the walls between their worlds closed and she no longer had a choice.

She shifted back and forth, playing with her hair and then her earrings. Finally, she said, “This is a joke, right?”

He thought about lying. He could lie. He could. It hadn’t happened yet—it didn’t _have_ to happen. Time was always in flux.

“It’s not a lie,” he said. The words were getting harder to get out. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” she whispered, sounding lost and alone.

He looked up and reached for her then, but she jumped back, flinching. He ran a hand through his hair and avoided her eyes again.

“So that’s it, then?” Rose said, voice turning bitter. “‘Rose, I missed you. I love you. But we can’t be together ‘cause my future’s all locked up with someone else?’”

“That’s not… exactly how I put it.”

“Still true, though, isn’t it?” Rose said. Her voice turned softer, “I can’t believe this.”

He sprung up, beginning to feel the first hints of frustration and resentment. “I don’t have a _choice_ ,” he said. “If I don’t—if River and I don’t meet, then _everything_ ends. Don’t you see that? I _have_ to, Rose. I don’t have a choice,” he repeated. “I have to close the loop… I have to send her to her death.”

He scrubbed one hand over his face and then dared a look at Rose. Her eyes shone with tears, but she didn’t cry. She took two steps towards him like she might hug him and then folded her arms across her chest.

“That’s… horrible,” she finally said.

“Yeah.” He looked away again, suddenly finding the walls of the console room intensely fascinating. That was it, then. He’d get back Rose only to lose her again. He’d care enough for River to make River willing to die for him. There was no choice.

So he blurted, “Stay.”

Rose jumped. “I’m sorry?”

“Stay,” he said again, begging. “Please, just… stay.”

“And become what?” Rose said, voice thick with tears. “Your mistress? Hiding in the TARDIS when she’s around?”

He blanched. “That’s not—”

“Or are you gonna chuck me out soon as you see her?” she continued.

He sucked it an audible breath and barely hissed out, “Stop it.”

“Then tell me how that’s going to work!” Rose said, voice rising. She pressed one hand to her stomach and turned away. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Time is always in flux, Rose,” he said urgently. “I could meet River tomorrow or the next day or hundreds of years in your future. Right now is the only thing that has to matter. Please.”

Her face contorted with the same anguish he was feeling, and then she ran towards him, throwing her arms around him. He inhaled against her neck, shutting his eyes and hoping, _hoping_ that there was a way he could make this so it wouldn’t have to matter.

“I’m sorry,” Rose whispered fervently, over and over. “Doctor, I am _so sorry_.”

“Stay,” he said again.

“What if that changes the timeline? If I’m there and you don’t do what you have to… no, I can’t. I can’t be the reason all those people die.”

“ _Rose_ ,” he tightened his grip around her, and she let out a choked sob.

“I can’t,” she said again. “I _can’t_.”

She slumped against him, no longer crying, her breathing ragged and measured. He was already counting down the seconds in his head. Two hours, six minutes, and thirty-five seconds until the walls between their worlds closed again. Two hours, six minutes, and thirty-three seconds. Two hours, six minutes, and thirty seconds. And he didn’t know what to say.

Rose pulled away, folding her arms protectively over her chest. “I have a life back there, you know.” Her eyes shifted over his shoulder and landed on the gun. “It’s lonely and sometimes I think about doing something crazy, something like taking off on my own to travel the rest of the earth, but it’s still my life. Even if I hoped that we could… it doesn’t matter now. I’m glad I came. I am.”

“Me, too,” he lied. There were other things he was supposed to say. “You’ll be amazing, Rose Tyler. Defending the Earth, taking a stand. Incredible. You’ll… just… you’ll be…”

Rose stared at him in disbelief and he trailed off, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Don’t,” she said softly and his mouth abruptly snapped shut. She took a measured breath. “How long have we got?”

He stiffened. Two hours, three minutes, and forty-nine seconds.

“About two hours,” he said. Her eyes widened and he found himself talking again, “I could make it longer.” He tilted his head in the direction of the console. “Time machine.”

He could tell she was tempted. “Tell me about her,” she whispered. “About River.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I barely know her. Not yet, anyway. And even if when I do, there’s no guarantee that…”

“Yeah?” Rose said, jumping on that. “Even if what?”

“I don’t know if I’ll even…” he scratched one hand behind his neck and said, “maybe you’re supposed to come along. Maybe that’s how it starts. Oh, I don’t know.”

Rose gave him a searching look. “‘Time’s always in flux,’” she said slowly. “What’s that mean?”

“I can see timelines, Rose, but I can’t read into the future,” he said gently. “Well, my future. _Well_ , most of the time.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Those would be spoi—” he began and then stopped. He was really growing to hate that word.

One hour, fifty-seven minutes, and nineteen seconds.

Words were beginning to elude him. He searched his mind desperately, looking for something that might help her understand.

He reached for her hand. Their fingers entwined easily together, and she gave him a real smile, making her seem younger, taking him back to the days when they were the only two people in the universe.

“I have to close River’s timeline. There’s no way around that, but I don’t know how or when. I can’t.” He paused. “I’ll tell you what, though, Rose Tyler. This, right here? That’s the real thing.”

She looked down at their hands, and then bit her lip. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t.”

She nodded to herself like she was mentally assessing the risks (he told himself he wouldn’t chuck her out for River—never ever) and then she raised her chin to meet his gaze.

He opened his arms and she grabbed him in a tight hug.

One hour, fifty-six minutes, and forty-three seconds.

He pulled Rose closer, swallowing hard and feeling giddy relief sweep through him. They collapsed into the pilot’s chair, still holding onto each other. Rose’s chin settled on his shoulder, and one of her fingers fisted in his tie, holding on like a warning against the rest of the world.

“Rose,” he said. She looked up at him. “River sacrificed herself for me. Don’t you ever do that to me.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for _you_ to blow yourself up,” she began. “But as soon as one of us does—”

“That doesn’t…” he cut in. He held her eyes. “I just—I can’t go through that again.”

Rose stared at him, eyebrows drawing together like she was trying to suss out what was going through his mind.

After a minute, her fingers tightened around his tie, and she said, “I promise.”

He nodded and pulled her into his arms again. She went, head resting against his chest.

“Stay?” he asked, one more time, just to be sure.

“Yeah,” she said, turning her head and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’d really like that.”


End file.
